From Russia With Love
by Cora Clavia
Summary: In law enforcement, the importance of cooperation is paramount.  And sometimes Vice needs a little help.  Caskett, oneshot.


**From Russia, With Love**

**Summary:** The importance of cooperation among law enforcement agents is paramount. And sometimes, Vice needs a little help. Caskett, oneshot.  
**Rating:** T at most.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Castle_, its characters, its awesomeness, or any portion of its epicness. I only own the computer on which I began typing this during the intermission of the _Buffy_ marathon my friends and I did to celebrate the end of finals week. If I owned _Castle_, Castle and Beckett would be semi-paralyzed due to the constant, wild, insane amounts of 24/7 sexing they'd be doing. And no one would complain. _You_ wouldn't, would you?

* * *

Running a hand through his hair, Castle sighed as he shuffled down the hallway to the squadroom, seeing Ryan waiting for him. "You said this was urgent. I just got home. What's important enough to drag me back in on a Friday night?"

"We got a call from Vice."

"Why?"

"They're honing in on an escort service."

"And?"

"Said they needed a girl who spoke Russian."

Light bulb. "Wait. Doesn't –"

"Yeah."

"So she's –"

"_Yeah_."

"Where's Esposito?"

Ryan shrugged. "Didn't pick up."

"His loss."

"Yep."

Castle glanced around. For a Friday night on a relatively quiet weekend, the squad room was unusually full. Of people flipping idly through pages and playing Solitaire on their computers. Mainly male people.

"How many people did you call?"

"Just you and Esposito. Most of these guys were here when the call came in." Ryan grinned. "After Vice came up and we got a peek at their costume bags, _nobody_ left."

"Thank you, God." Castle eyed the clock. "Where is she now?"

"She's been in wardrobe for the past half hour."

"Wardrobe? We don't have wardrobe."

"No, we have interrogation rooms."

Castle's eyes lit up. "With one-way windows."

"Yep."

He thought for a moment, then deflated. "She had them lock it, didn't she?"

"Yep."

"Damn." He thought for a second. "Who has the key?"

"Montgomery."

"Damn."

"No kidding. How do you think every guy in this room feels?" Ryan shrugged. "She won't be out with Vice for long, anyway. They said they just need her to get their operative in the brothel. She won't even be in the takedown. They're whoring her up for probably twenty minutes' worth of actual work."

"We take what we can get."

The door to the interrogation room flew open with a bang, and out stepped a woman they almost didn't recognize. Ryan dropped his phone. Castle squeaked. Every other guy in the precinct briefly forgot to pretend to work and just stared, slack-jawed, at the tall, slender wet dream personified standing in the hallway.

She was wearing a black lace corset, stockings, garters, stilettos, a long sparkly necklace, and black satin gloves. Her legs were a hundred miles long. Her eyes looked smoky and heavy-lidded, her hair soft and sex-tousled, her lips crimson. And in one hand, she was holding –

Ryan squinted. "Is that a riding crop?"

"Oh God, make me a pony right now."

"I just – she – _wow_."

"I want her to wear that. Every day."

One of the other cops choked. "And that necklace – look, it's – like – right _between_ them."

"I would kill to be that necklace."

Oblivious to anything but her Vice handler talking to her, she followed him down the hallway, briefly disappearing from sight. The room went back to normal, with scattered muttered expressions of _hot damn_ and _didn't know she was a porn star too_.

Ryan took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Wow. So this is Russian?"

"I guess."

"Anna Hooker-enina."

Castle high-fived him. "Way to be literary. Detective Onatopp?"

"Nice. Katherine the Great?"

Castle shrugged. "Good, but it's not slutty."

"Katherine the Half-Naked?"

"Just stop before – oh, no, she's coming over here – "

"Save yourself, man."

"What are you – hey!"

Ryan vanished, leaving Castle alone to face the ire of his partner. His sexy, lingerie-clad partner. He ducked his head, pretending to scan whatever file Ryan had snagged off a nearby desk, hearing the click of stilettos – oh, God, he could see her feet, and they went up to her legs, and _damn_ it those legs just did not end, and oh God, there was even more to look at above it, and –

"Thought you went home, Castle."

Damn it. She was talking to him. And required a response. "I, uh – I – forgot something."

"Uh-huh." She sighed, her hands on her hips. "You know those aren't my eyes, right?"

"What?" His eyes didn't move.

Fine. He'd earned it. "Sit."

"What?"

"I said, _sit_." One hand on his chest, she pushed him back, and he stumbled a few steps before landing in her chair, staring up at her dazedly. She smiled, gently reaching behind her back. "You trust me, don't you, Castle?"

"Uh – I – of course." He swallowed, and stared, mesmerized, at her lips – scarlet, full, slightly pouty, just barely open, and she was leaning towards him and reaching for him as if she was about to slide the sport coat off his shoulders in front of everyone, and the way she was leaning, all he could see was the black lace that _just barely_ covered her breasts, soft and round and right there and oh God, those were her _breasts_ and –

_snick_

"What – I – Beckett?" he tugged ineffectually, but his hands were cuffed behind him, rendering him completely helpless.

She leaned over, and hissed into his ear with a deep Russian accent, "You chave bin a _very_ bad boy, Richard. I vant you to stiy chere and tink about dis."

He let out a shaky whimper.

"_Do svidanya_, Mister Castle."

She straightened, tossed him a saucy smile, and strutted off. He stared after her, dry-mouthed, absolutely certain that the swing in her hips and that perfect, _perfect_ ass was going to kill him. Kill him dead.

But oh sweet Lord, what a good way to die.

He looked around to see every single guy in the squadroom staring at him. A silence swept over the room, until finally, Ryan came over, holding up the key.

"Castle, I just want you to know – we all hate you a little bit right now." He tossed the key on the desk, just barely out of reach.

"What's that for?"

Ryan grinned. "You heard her, man. You've got to stay here and think about this." He shoved his hands back in his pockets. "Have a good night, Castle."

"Jealous."

Ryan disappeared down the hallway, and Castle had the key in his teeth by the time he poked his head back into the room.

"Hey, Beckett just texted. Says, _Tell Castle he'd better be exactly where I left him when I get back._"

**FIN**


End file.
